The Q Word
by tigerlily25
Summary: How much trouble can one cute little koala bear be? "Really?" Tony looks at McGee with narrowed eyes. “You just had to go and say it." Vague spoilers for 7x01


**A/N**: I am apparently _utterly_ incapable of writing short scenes. But Gibbs' line was so good, I just couldn't NOT write about it. Anyway. Think of this as an interlude between _'Defying Gravity'_, which really didn't fit with the rest of Part 2.

Submarine facts via Google, koala facts thanks to general knowledge with some Google double-checking. And yes, they really do make that sound, and it's one of the most heart-wrenching things ever.

Thanks to **wildpeace** for the beta advice, and **sbz** for cracking the whip. ;)

_"Some idiot smuggled a koala onto a submarine!" - Gibbs, 7x01 Truth or Consequences._

* * *

You'd think Tony and McGee didn't exist, the way the uniformed man pointedly ignores them. Tony tries not to roll his eyes.

"Special Agent Gibbs? Captain Luke McCall. Glad you made it here quickly. This way."

The man turns on his heel and starts walking at a blistering pace toward the sleek black shape in the water beyond the dock. "We're behind schedule, and the crew's getting antsy."

Lack of social pleasantries. Clipped sentences. An air of constant exasperation and a military haircut.

"Think he drinks bourbon?" McGee mutters under his breath.

"Probably builds boats, too. Though given the space limitations on this thing, I'm pretty sure they'd be the bottled kind."

Tony looks around uncomfortably. The walkways of the Seawolf remind him of his time as Agent Afloat, though the sub has half the space and funnily enough, almost double the equipment lining the hallway. _Make a hole_, he thinks briefly, though there's nobody in the corridor but them.

He's beginning to understand why McGee has a boat phobia.

Tony and McGee share a look as they struggle to keep their gear from banging against the walls. If the original 'second B for bastard' notices certain similarities between the commanding officer and himself, he doesn't let on, just follows without comment.

"Gotta say, Agent Gibbs, I've been captain of the 'Wolf for six years and this's the first time I've had to call NCIS in for anything. Sure grateful if you can take this problem off my hands quick smart."

Gibbs grunts something that's half agreement, half annoyance, and McCall looks at him with an equally exasperated expression.

"Damn fool must have smuggled it in Tuesday when we restocked the sub. Hell if I know why anyone would want to take that little monster on a training exercise. Guess Thompson just couldn't _bear_ to leave it behind."

Tony's made some bad jokes in his time, but that attempt blows them all out of the water. A few paces in front of him, Ducky clucks his tongue and – recognising the familiar signs of an impending lecture – Tony smirks and waits.

"Actually, Captain, the koala may greatly _resemble_ a bear, but it is in fact a marsupial – a native of certain regions in Australia. While I am certainly mystified by the presence of the animal on your vessel, perhaps you could tell me more about the manner in which you found the deceased--"

Tony tunes out from the conversation, though he knows he shouldn't.

"And they didn't call Parks and Wildlife for the not-bear why, exactly?" Tony mutters under his breath to McGee as they progress down the cramped corridors of the USS Seawolf. His stomach growls, and Tony realises for the first time that the gnawing emptiness in his gut might be unconnected to all the other things that have been missing for the last few days.

"Animal Control are on their way, I think, but they have to wait on shore. Gibbs didn't want people messing up the crime scene," McGee replies in a similar low tone.

"Furry animal duty," Tony grouses. "As much as I enjoy spontaneous cross-state travel on Vance's dime, surely there's a friendly Ranger Smith equivalent around these parts. I could sure use a pic-a-nic basket right about now."

After days without speaking unless necessary, the words bubble and spill from his lips like he's been dosed with some kind of truth drug. Not that Tony has ever _needed_ chemicals to inhibit the connection between his brain and his mouth.

_Governator, eat your heart out_.

McGee just swallows hard and keeps walking, his face a shade paler than normal. High-pitched screams bounce around the confined space and for a moment Tony wonders if he's imagining the noise. It wouldn't surprise him, really.

"Uh, Boss?" McGee says tentatively. "I thought babies weren't allowed to accompany their parents on subs, even on training missions."

So McGee hears it too. Guess he's not going _completely_ batshit crazy then.

Good to know.

"Not a baby, McGee," Gibbs replies dryly as they reach what Tony assumes is either the storage room where the animal was apparently being concealed or the sleeping quarters where Petty Officer Thompson was found at 0715 this morning, cold and stiff and still.

Given the all-encompassing smell in this particular section of the corridor, he can't tell which room houses which evil.

"So, uh… What's making all that noise?"

"That would be the marsupial in question, Timothy," Ducky supplies, a twinkle in his eye. "I've read that koalas scream almost like young children when frightened, though today is the first chance I have had the chance to witness it for myself."

Their resident medical examiner is enjoying this entirely too much, most likely because _his_ job here is to examine the deceased seaman, rather than play reluctant Crocodile Hunter. A scuffle from within the room on the left, and the screaming stutters and fades into some kind of inhuman snorting for a few beats and then starts again, higher and louder than before. Inside, someone curses like… well, like a sailor. Which is fitting, given their current location.

The hatch bangs open and a small blonde petty officer almost mows them down trying to get out, his hands over his ears. He sees the crowd and straightens up, but not before Tony catches sight of the angry red scratches up and down his forearms.

Not good. Definitely not good.

"Captain, I'll scrub the head for the next _month_ if you put someone else on – oh, the Animal Control people are here." They don't have time to correct him. Petty Officer Unnamed turns to leave, then as an afterthought shoots back a hasty, "Good luck with that. Watch out for the claws."

It would almost be encouraging if the person who said it didn't look like he'd been a few rounds with Edward Scissorhands. As it is, it's pretty much just confirming his thought that today would have been a really good day to call in drunk to work.

Gibbs looks at Ducky meaningfully, and they both disappear into the room on the right without another word. Tony looks at McGee.

McGee looks at Tony.

Tony looks at McGee. "As Senior— "

"No way. I'm allergic to animals."

"What about Jethro?"

"I'm allergic to all animals except Jethro, then." McGee thinks for a moment. "And you owe me from the last case with that projectile vomiting kid."

Tony looks at McGee. "You had to go and say the 'Q' word. Or the marsupial equivalent of the 'Q' word, anyway. 'How much trouble can one cute little bear be?' _Really_?"

McGee sighs.

"Mr. Cartwright, with all due respect to your rank, may I say that I think you're an ass?"

Tony looks at McGee. Hard. "Jack Warden, you are not. But I'll forgive you for that one, because _Run Silent Run Deep_ was a classic. And very suitable for the situation, unlike that Shrek incident last month." He gives McGee a little nudge. "Now get in there and work your magic on our little furry Australian friend."

It's so easy to pretend like everything is normal. Another average day on the wacky carousel that is life as an NCIS Special Agent. They're perhaps carrying on a little more than they should at a crime scene, but both of them have things to forget. McGee's gone back to his normal colour, and the haze Tony's been drifting in for the last week seems a thing of the past.

McGee looks at Tony. "Rock paper scissors?"

"No way."

See? Completely normal.

Except for the screaming, which is starting to grate on his last frayed nerve, because the sound is so filled with fear and confusion and anger that it's like something's reached inside his black little heart, pulled out all his feelings and turned them into noise pollution for everyone to cringe at. Which, now that he thinks about it, is maybe why he hasn't wanted to be part of the world for the last few days. He can barely deal with his own pain, let alone deflect everyone else's.

Sometimes it's tough being the one who people expect to try to lighten the mood.

"Hey!"

They both look at Gibbs.

"You two done?"

"Boss, I was just – "

"McGee was just telling me how much he loves Australian wildlife, Boss. All creatures, in fact. Great and small and… well, kinda stinky."

Gibbs looks at Tony. Hard. After a suitably uncomfortable pause, he bangs the hatch closed perhaps a little harder than necessary, but it might just be the brilliant acoustics that are created when one is underwater in a nuclear-powered tin can – full of metal and with not a lot in the way of floor coverings to act as a sound dampener. And also, very poor ventilation. In short, Tony can't wait to get off this thing.

Tony sighs and turns to McGee. "Okay. Rock paper scissors."

They count off. There's a groan.

McGee looks at Tony.

"Best of three?"

"No way."

This time Gibbs doesn't bother to open the hatch the whole way, just enough so that he can yell threats through the gap.

"If you don't get _both_ of your asses in there on the double, you can kiss your active field status goodbye and settle in for a long stretch of cold cases and tedious desk work."

"On it, Boss," they reply as one, and cram in through the doorway. The animal stops its screaming and scuttles into a corner, looking up at them with big dark liquid eyes.

"You know," McGee says after a minute, "It really doesn't look that evil."

"Neither did Cujo," Tony mutters darkly, "and look how well _that_ turned out." The koala rocks up onto all fours and starts to snort alarmingly. "If it's about to charge us, I'm shooting it. Paperwork be damned."

They watch, but the animal just snuffles for a minute and then lowers its furry grey rump back onto the ground heavily. Something moves beneath the thick white fur on its stomach, distorting the skin. McGee freezes and nudges Tony pointedly.

"If an alien bursts out of there, I'm shooting that as well," Tony grumbles. "Man, we don't get paid enough for this." He surveys the area. The room is half-filled with crates and boxes, marked with strings of numbers and obviously containing food supplies for the interrupted training mission. Thanks to Petty Officer Thompson, it now also smells like a petting zoo. He's betting Thompson's fellow crew mates won't be impressed with biscuits that smell like –

"What we need," he says after a moment of consideration, "is a seabag. Or a mail bag. Or any kind of bag that might be used to catch a koala without injuring it _or_ us. Mostly us."

"Right," McGee agrees, and moves toward the doorway. Tony keeps his eye on the koala, trying to remember everything he's ever seen or heard about marsupials, but all he can think of is a wombat joke he heard from a couple of Australian backpackers he met at the Admiral a couple of weeks ago, and he doubts that knowledge of the animal's diet will help in this situation.

There wasn't an 'animal control' section in the 'how to' handbook of any kind of law enforcement agency he's been with. Funny that.

"Got it!" McGee almost yells, and the koala lets out a disgruntled screech. "Whoops."

"You two done in there yet?" Gibbs calls from across the hall.

"Almost, Boss," Tony replies, shooting a frantic look at McGee. "Right. So what you're going to do – " off Tim's look, "what _we're_ going to do is take that jacket over there – we'll apologise to," he checks the label, "P.F.C Rhodes later – and toss it over the HellBear, then get it in the bag while it's distracted."

McGee frowns. "I don't know, Tony," he says slowly, "It sounds kind of cruel."

"If you have a better plan, McBleedingHeart, I'm all ears." The not-bear sniffs the air – how it can smell anything other than its own stench is beyond Tony – and rises again, taking a hesitant step towards them. "Besides, it will only be in there for as long as it takes to get it off this damned boat."

"DiNozzo! You got three minutes to get that animal on shore and get back in here to sketch."

"There you go, Timmy," Tony says brightly, "It will only be in there for... one minute twenty-seven seconds. The rest of the time, we'll be capturing or I'll be running."

"Okay," McGee agrees after a short pause. "But if you tell Abby that I put a supposedly cute and cuddly bush creature in a dark airless seabag, she'll kill me, and then I'll come back to haunt you."

"Whatever. Now, jacket at the ready." _Really, they're probably doing Rhodes a favour,_ Tony thinks as McGee inches toward the animal cautiously_. Polyester is nobody's friend_.

"On three. One… two…"

The jacket lands dead centre over the koala and it starts to struggle, claws tugging at the fabric. McGee swears as a sharp claw embeds itself in his palm while they're trying to fit the bag over the animal, a harder task than it seemed in theory.

The screaming makes Tony's teeth vibrate, makes the hair on his body stand on end. For a minute he thinks about letting the koala go and calling Animal Control in because to hell with the crime scene, the fear and pain of the animal is almost more than he can deal with. He almost forgot how disturbing the screaming was while the thing was snorting and grunting, sounding a lot like…

A drunken sailor with emphysema.

The thought of someone putting a bag over his head and blocking out the light and air in the room makes him want to vomit.

Someone sneezes loudly.

"Tony!" McGee says sharply, and he realises that his hands are empty. McGee holds up a wriggling, writhing seabag with some difficulty, watching him with narrowed eyes. "You okay?"

"Peachy," he replies absently, eyes on the bag.

"Want me to run it up to shore?" McGee pauses to sneeze again, looking at the bag with consternation.

The fact that McGee even offered says more than Tony would like about how observant the junior agent has become in the last few months. He's not sure he likes those observational skills pointed in his direction. It makes his skin prickle worse than the screaming.

"Nah, I'll go." Without waiting for an answer, Tony grabs the top of the bag, swearing colourfully when a hand (or a foot, he's not quite sure) pierces the fabric and scrapes down the length of his forearm. He ignores McGee and takes off down the corridor without looking back.

"Make a hole, or it'll be 'say hello to my stinky little friend'," he shouts to the few crewmen who have gathered to watch, holding the bag out awkwardly in front of him as blood starts to seep from the cuts on his arm. Why oh why couldn't it just be another call about a drug deal gone bad? He'd take Scarface-style drama over this shit any day.

Still. Despite the pain and the smell, he can't help but feel sorry for the animal.

He wonders if it came from the bush or the zoo, then decides it probably doesn't make a difference. Either way, it had no choice in ending up here, just like it will have no choice where it goes after this.

Something starts to leak from claw holes at the bottom of the normally-waterproof seabag. "Oh, you've _gotta_ be kidding me," Tony says in disgust as he realises what it is.

"Make a damn hole!"

Golden showers from not-bears. Nope, they really don't get paid enough for this

* * *

_In case you're wondering about the wombat joke:  
- How is a wombat like a man?  
- Eats roots shoots and leaves.  
_

_It's all about where you put the commas. *grin*_

The rest of _Gravity_ will be posted tomorrow. I got distracted watching _Reunion. _Forgive me?

Reviews much appreciated. Go on. Feed the beast.


End file.
